


we’ll be good in another life

by heartbreakordeath



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: (be warned not all of it has a happy ending just some of it), Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath
Summary: in another place, in another time, what could we have been?a series of alternate timelines.
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith, Kyle Simmons/Dan Smith
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	we’ll be good in another life

**version i- i'm lost but found with you**

In this one, it’s two in the morning, and Dan’s at a uni party, and he’s drunk.

So drunk that he mistakes a stranger for Ralph, sitting down next to him on the couch and blathering on about some myth he learned about in history last week, not even realizing his friend isn’t even in the room.

But the guy just sips his drink and watches in amusement as Dan flails his arms dramatically during his horribly inaccurate retelling of Daedalus and Icarus, sloshing his drink down the front of his shirt and sliding closer to the stranger every few minutes until their legs are pressed together.

The good news is that it means he isn’t drinking any more of his beer, and eventually he comes to himself enough to turn and realize he isn’t talking to his best friend.

“Oh- fuck, I’m sorry. You’re not…”   
  


“Ralph? No,” the man says around a grin. “I’m Kyle. Keep going, though, I’m very intrigued.” Dan stares at him for a moment, sluggish brain struggling to catch up.   
  
“How did you…?”

“You kept calling me that,” The man- Kyle- answers simply as Dan trails off.

“You don’t look anything like him,” Dan admits, embarrassed. He slumps against the back of the sofa, tucking his legs up underneath him.

“I know,” Kyle says. “He came in here a while ago looking for you. Nice guy.”

“You’re much cuter than him,” Dan adds as an afterthought. He blinks. “I said that out loud, didn’t I.”

“You did.”

“Oops.” Dan doesn’t look very sorry.

“I take it you and Ralph are just mates, then?”

Dan wrinkles his nose, and Kyle’s glad the other man isn’t in the room. 

“Ugh. Yeah. I mean, love the dude, but-” he shudders. “I’ve known him since I was, like…” he tries to tick off the years on his fingers, forgets his place, starts over, and ultimately gives up with a shrug. “A long time. It would be weird. Besides, he’s already taken.”

Kyle can’t help himself when he asks, “And you are…?”  _ Please be single please be single please be single and not a serial killer- _

“Dan,” Dan says helpfully. “Smith. You’re Kyle.” Kyle shakes his head, smiling softly. 

“Simmons. Yeah. Nice to meet you.” Dan nods, eyes traveling past Kyle to some point in the distance.

“M’sorry I’m so drunk.”

“Why’re you sorry?” Kyle asks, surprised at the turn in conversation. Dan shrugs, a sudden forlorn look crossing over his face.

“‘Cause I wanted to leave with someone, yknow? And now I can’t, because I'm drunk and I’ll just forget it in the morning.”

Kyle’s eyebrows nearly disappear into the hair that’s fallen over his face. “You were?” He looks around; Dan hadn’t been talking to anyone before Kyle, not that he knew of. And Ralph...definitely just a friend. But that just means…

“Well,  _ I’m  _ not that drunk,” he finds himself saying. On second thought, maybe he  _ is _ , with the ease that the words spill out of his mouth. “You could always...give me your number.” Dan looks at him strangely. “Text me tomorrow, or something.”

“You’d…” Dan now looks like he’s about to cry in front of him. Kyle frowns- has he done something wrong? “You’d want that? You don’t wanna just...hook up or something? Forget about me in the morning?”

“Woah, woah,” Kyle places a comforting hand on Dan’s shoulder, and the man leans into the touch. “Of course not. I’m not an asshole.”

“A lot of guys are assholes,” Dan replies softly. Kyle’s heart skips a beat, suddenly feeling wildly protective of the man despite barely knowing who he is. 

“I know.” He sighs, squeezing his hand gently. “Let’s find Ralph for you, then, right? Get you home.”

~

The next morning, Dan wakes up with a smudged line of numbers on his arm. After squinting at them and trying a few unsuccessful combinations, he finally gets a string of emojis from one of the numbers and directions to a nearby coffee house.

He smiles. They meet up that day, and again a few days later, and then a few days after that. And then, eventually, he lets Kyle kiss him, hold him close like Kyle tells him he deserves, and he forgets what anything besides real love is like.

* * *

**version ii- it's a feeling we always chase**

Charlie’s already thinking about what he could do with the money.  _ Buy a new kettle _ is on the top of the list, so he can stop microwaving water for his tea like an absolute  _ heathen _ . Buy an extra-nice bunch of flowers to leave with his mother on the way home, perhaps. Send some cash to the friend who called him for help when he got evicted from his flat, just to help out.

It’s not even the money that excites him as much as the prospect of the job itself, but it would be  _ nice _ to be able to do things for himself or his friends that he wouldn’t do normally. It  _ will _ be, he corrects himself as he packs up his guitar and does one last check around the apartment.

Because he’s  _ going _ to get this job, he  _ has to _ .

He barely even registers that he’s humming “Flaws” on his way to the tube, fingers drumming against his thigh in the automatic rhythm of the keys. He can basically do it in his sleep, now, after days of trying to get it right.

Adjusting the cumbersome guitar case in his other hand, Charlie descends into the humid station and heads for the next train. It’s busy at this time of day, and he pushes his way past the hordes of people, trying to find his way to the platform.

“Excuse me,” he says over and over, keeping his eyes on the sign for his train. He’s running a little behind, but he’s not late. If he can just catch this next train-

He stumbles over nothing and drops his guitar. Cursing loudly, he spins around. A businessman trips over the case and snaps at him, and then a man with a baseball cap over his eyes is snatching it by the handle and disappearing into the crowd.

“ _ No _ !” Charlie pushes past another man in a suit and reaches for the case, ice rushing through his veins.  _ No, no, NO. _

His heart’s racing, pulse beating a metronome of panic in his ears. His vision’s going blurry as he chases the guy down the platform, knocking into the people who don’t move out of his way.

He calls for help, desperation mounting as he looks around and doesn’t see a single security officer in sight. Why won’t anybody fucking _help_ _him_?

When he looks back, the guy’s gone. 

Charlie stops, heaving shaky breaths as he stares helplessly at the crowds of people. The train’s just come in, the one he was supposed to take, and he just sits on a bench and watches it pull out of the station.

He buries his head in his hands and lets the tears fall. Nobody asks if he’s alright.

~

  
  


Five miles away, in a small room, Kyle reads over the list again.

“Is there a Charlie Barnes here?” Silence. He glances around at the group of people, who shake their heads at him. “He’s supposed to be up next.” Another beat of silence. He shrugs. “Alright. Next, then.”

* * *

**version iii- imagine that you are mine**

“That guy sounds pretty good,” Will remarks as they walk past a small side stage. Dan looks up from his phone, narrowly avoiding a laughing group of girls covered in fluorescent body paint, and glances in the direction of the singing.

There’s a man up there with a guitar, currently playing to a crowd of around a hundred people.  _ Pretty good for a stage that size _ , Dan thinks. _ Must be a popular local act. _

“Yeah,” he replies belatedly, as the guy hits a particularly strong note that rings out across the field. He’s singing about the ocean, or being underwater or something. Whatever it is, it’s smooth and loud, and Dan’s feet find themselves changing direction and heading for the small crowd.

  
“What about The Killers?” Will calls from behind him. “They’re on in half an hour! We’re going to have a terrible spot already.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” he yells back distractedly, stumbling over an empty can as he turns around. He doesn’t wait to see if his friend keeps walking, just heads over and finds a spot near the side of the stage where he can watch the singer. 

Dan’s enraptured after the first song, and he stands there for the rest of the set, ignoring the phone buzzing incessantly in his pocket. The guy’s hypnotizing up there, and it’s obvious why he has such a crew of fans around him, singing along to the songs they know.

He fingers the paper band around his wrist, thinks about the all-access lanyard hiding in his jeans pocket. He could go up there after the show, head backstage and introduce himself. Tell him about his record label, maybe, if by some miracle he’s still unsigned.

Every fiber of his being wants to meet this stranger, this  _ Charlie Barnes _ , as his colorful backdrop makes him out to be.

So he hangs around until the end of the set, watching a group of girls cheer for an encore as the musician says his goodbyes and walks off stage with the guitar. Most of the people drift away, attracted by the sounds of other bands further down the field, but Dan stays. He’s in a group of a few others, a mixed batch of younger men and women chatting casually and talking about the gig.

A few people figure out who Dan is, eventually, and wander over nervously to say hello. He smiles and greets them easily, takes a few photos with them and asks them if they’re enjoying the festival. They’re kind, this bunch, and he’s not surprised there’s some overlap between his fans and Charlie’s.

Eventually the man himself emerges from backstage, after the small crew starts cleaning up the set and packing everything away. He’s sweaty and smiling, waving to all the fans and pulling a Sharpie out of his pocket to sign their things.

Dan hangs back and watches with a sense of amused familiarity. After what feels like half an hour, the crowd is filtering out into the rest of the festival grounds, and Dan takes a breath as he makes eye contact with Charlie. A spark of recognition flashes in his eyes as he strides over and holds out his hand.

“I know you, don’t I?” He grins as Dan shakes his hand and shrugs.

“Maybe.” Charlie studies him for a moment.

“Hmm, not sure. You in a band or something?”

Dan adjusts his hat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah.” Charlie keeps staring at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Bastille?” Charlie pauses, shakes his head. “I’m- Dan. Smith. We have that song, yknow, with the  _ eh oh _ ’s…”

Charlie laughs, almost doubling over with the force of it.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. ‘Course I know who you are, mate- there’s a reason my gig got booked today instead of tomorrow. Wouldn’t  _ miss  _ a main stage performance from one of the best bands in the UK, especially for free.” He holds up his own wristband for emphasis.

Dan groans, taking off his hat and running a hand over the top of his head. “You  _ really _ let me fall for that. Nice one.”

Charlie just laughs again and tilts his head. “You’re taller than I thought you would be.”

“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.”

Charlie’s still smiling, and Dan opens his mouth to say something probably even  _ more _ awkward, like  _ I really like your laugh _ or  _ you’re one of the best singers I’ve ever heard  _ or  _ I’d really like to take you for a drink _ , but then his phone’s ringing again and Will’s coming up behind him and slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, they’re on in five! What have you been  _ doing _ ?” He looks between Dan and Charlie. “Nearly had to pay Kyle off to save our spots.”

“Don’t suppose you’d want to...?” Dan glances between the two of them, but Charlie’s already shaking his head and stepping back.

“The Killers, right? They’re great live. Nice to meet you, Dan, see you!”

Dan keeps looking back, as Will all but drags him towards the main stage. 

He doesn’t find Charlie for the rest of the weekend, even though Dan knows he was  _ somewhere  _ in the massive crowd at their show. For the rest of the festival season, he checks the lineups as soon as they arrive, hoping to see a familiar name hidden in it. 

He never finds it.

* * *

**version iv- feels like something's special (but it never felt like love)**

It’s all over the news.

After the first day, Dan throws his phone at the wall and shatters the screen into a million pieces. He leaves it there on the carpet, refusing to even clean it up until he accidentally trods on it and spends an hour crouched on the floor picking glass out of his foot with a shaking hand, trying not to break down again. 

He doesn’t succeed. 

It’s over.

His best friends hate him.

His boyfriend’s moved out.

His social media’s blowing up, his old friends keep ringing the doorbell and sending emails and trying to call his broken phone.

It doesn’t change anything.

His piano sits in the corner, gathering dust every day it stays untouched. It’s like it’s taunting him, reminding him of how badly he fucked up, telling him he ruined the best thing he ever had, that he’s never going to be able to get it back.

It’s over, and Dan’s sitting on the floor with a bloody foot, staring at his shattered phone.

It’s 2016, and there’s a half-finished album sitting in the hard drive of his computer.

He doesn’t have the heart to throw it out, so it sits buried in a closet with the rest of the things that remind him of what he used to be.

All the old setlists, the extra drumsticks, the mini keyboard he used to take on the tour bus. The old tee shirts, all with holes from wearing them around the world for five years. The old CDs and posters and gifts from fans, covered in the triangle logo that doesn’t belong to him anymore.

Because it’s 2016, and he pushed the love of his life away, and now Bastille, everything he’d worked for- everything they’d  _ all _ worked for- lays dead in a pile of ash.

* * *

**version v- we only ever wanted one thing from this**

He gasps the words out in the heat of it, whispers it into the skin of Kyle’s shoulder before he sinks his teeth into it. 

He’s too distracted to notice how the other man freezes underneath him, head clouded with endorphins as he comes down from the high. 

“Dan,” he hears- softly, cautiously. He lifts his head, rolls some of his weight off of the other man with a sigh. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m not- '' Kyle,  _ his _ Kyle, stares back at him with what can only be pity in his eyes. “We can’t...you know it can’t be like that.”

It’s suddenly too claustrophobic in the hotel bed. Dan falls back to the rumpled sheets and stares at the ugly popcorn ceiling. 

He hadn’t meant to say it, not really. It’s always in his head- swimming around, creeping up the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free.

It had to come out some time or another, he supposes, as he watches Kyle roll out of bed and pull his shirt back over his head. Dan’s left a mark on him again, a few of them.  _ Oops.  _ Somehow, he can’t make himself regret it. It’s the only thing he has to remind him (and Kyle, whenever he looks in the mirror) that this is  _ their  _ little secret. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when Kyle shuts off the light and slips under the covers of his own bed. 

“S’okay,” he hears from the darkness. “You know I...I wish it could be different too, y’know?”

“Yeah.”  _ Why can’t it be, then?  _ His brain screams at him.  _ If we both want it to be different, why can’t you just fucking tell me? Why can’t we just do it? _

He rolls over and faces the other wall. He knows all too well  _ why _ , as does Kyle.

It’s not up to them, or what they want. It’s about the band, the music, their  _ future _ .

And Dan’s not about to fuck all that up with another accidental  _ I love you _ . This, his life, is worth far too much to him.

At least this way, they can both get what they need, even if neither of them can have what they want.

Dan closes his eyes, and wonders if he’s always been this incredibly stupid.

* * *

**version vi- I am bound to you, with a tie that we cannot break**

**(a year after ver. iii bc this is getting too angsty for me)**

Of all the possible places, it happens in a men’s toilet in a London bar. Dan’s just standing there, doing his business, when the door swings open and another man joins him at the row of urinals (at a respectable distance, of course). Dan pointedly keeps his gaze on the poster on the wall in front of them, advertising tonight’s gig for a band he vaguely remembers hearing his friends mention once or twice.

He flushes and heads to the sink, and after a moment the stranger joins him at the sinks. Dan reaches for the soap, finds it empty, glances up at the one on the other side. 

The guy looks up at the same time.   
  
“...Dan?”

“Charlie?”

“What are you doing here?”   
  


“Just...out, what are  _ you  _ doing here?”  _ I’ve been looking for you for ages _ . Charlie points at another poster on the mirror.

  
“I’m playing tonight. That’s my band. Special favor for a friend, actually- if you can believe it, my venues aren’t normally this small anymore.”

“I can,” Dan smiles. “I’m glad people finally realized how fucking incredible you are.”

Charlie looks flustered all of a sudden. “Oh.” He turns and yanks a paper towel from the dispenser, and while he’s looking away Dan runs his hands through his hair frantically. “Thanks. You too, really, I mean- love the new song.”

“Thanks.” Dan ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Been listening to your stuff, too. It’s amazing, man.”

“Oh, really?” Charlie’s voice jumps an octave higher. “I’m glad you like it.” He clears his throat, and another guy walks through the door and gives them a weird look.

“Maybe we could-” 

“I should-”

“-yeah.”

They hurry out of the bathroom, Charlie hanging back to give him a quick, “See you later, then?” and then he’s heading over to the tiny stage where his bandmates are waiting. Dan sighs and heads back to his own table, ignoring Ralph's questioning eyes as he finishes the rest of his beer.

He understands well enough when Dan's the first up after the band’s done playing, muttering a quick goodbye as he heads for Charlie. He just smiles and shakes his head when Dan apologizes profusely for leaving him and Soph alone to go sit with the other singer at the bar.

And when they finally leave in the early hours of the morning, Ralph doesn ’t miss the way they look at each other before parting. He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, s hooting a text to Will.

_ You owe me for this, you know. He’s never gonna shut up about this guy now. _

Will sends back an angel emoji, followed by two eggplants.  **_GOOD LUCK!!_ **

* * *

  
**version vii- wonder what we could be living in another life**

**(alternate ending to version ii)**

  
  


“Hey.” There’s a hand on his shoulder. Charlie jerks up, rubbing his eyes furiously. Another train’s pulling into the station, and he can barely hear as the stranger says, “Hey, are you alright?”

He shakes his head and sniffs.

“Some asshole stole my guitar.” His throat clenches up as the panic threatens to overwhelm him. “I was supposed to have an audition today. I was supposed to-” he swallows hard and moves to stand up. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Wait.” The woman stares at him, forehead creasing. “An audition?”

“Yeah,” Charlie snaps in frustration. “For a job. A band.” He clears his throat, embarrassed.  _ She’s just trying to be nice, you idiot. Don’t be so rude. _

“...this is, like,  _ completely _ ridiculous, but can you tell me your name?”

“Charlie,” he replies with a defeated sigh. “Charlie Barnes.”

She’s silent for a moment, tapping away on her phone.

“Why?” He tries asking, but she just holds up a finger and waits for a minute.

“Oh!” She exclaims suddenly. “That’s crazy. No way.”   
  


“What’s crazy?” His hands have stopped shaking, finally, and he crosses his arms over his stomach protectively. She gives him a sympathetic smile.

“My name’s Soph,” she explains. “I'm a friend of Dan Smith.”

“Dan…?” He blinks up at her. “Like...not _Dan_ _ Smith _ , Dan Smith?” She laughs and nods, and he can feel something in his chest loosen.

“Yeah. Looks like today’s your lucky day- well, considering…” she winces and places her hand on his shoulder again. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Charlie looks up at her, still not believing what he’s hearing.

“I...okay, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> iiii'm not quite sure what prompted me to write this but i started it yesterday and it just kinda. happened. hope you enjoyed i guess??


End file.
